


you have the keys to my heart (and my jail cell)

by frozensight



Series: a whole new world (literally) [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensight/pseuds/frozensight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil’s a police officer; Clint’s a repeat offender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you have the keys to my heart (and my jail cell)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: You’re a police officer and I’m constantly in and out of holding/jail and we get to know each other well so sometimes you give me my favorite treats when no ones looking.

“Barton.” Phil doesn’t bother looking up after calling the name. Instead he just reads over the man’s record for the fifth time in the past couple months that’s listed on the clipboard he’s holding. “Your friend’s here to bail you out.”

He leaves the ‘ _again_ ’ implied.

“Aw, Coulson, you mean I gotta leave your company already?” Barton, whose face is sporting a bruise on his chin and a black eye, is leaning against the holding cell door when Phil does look up. He’s smiling, but that’s nothing new. “I just got here.”

It takes a lot for Phil to not roll his eyes, or return the smile.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t get into a bar fight when you’re on a date next time, so it takes a little longer for someone to come and get you.”

Barton snorts as Phil unlocks the cell door, standing back calmly as it slides open. “On a date? With _Tasha_?” He laughs as he walks out, waiting patiently for Phil to close the door after him. “Don’t be absurd, Coulson; she’s just a friend.”

Phil raises an eyebrow at him. “Just a friend who has bailed you out of jail, three of the last five times?”

He shrugs. “She’s a _good_ friend, but nothing more.” Barton walks backwards so he can waggle his eyebrows at Phil. “You jealous, Coulson? You worried I’ll stop coming by if I’ve got a girl?”

“Clearly, that hasn’t been a deterrent, her actual status with you notwithstanding.”

“Point. Still, you must admit that you’d miss me if I stopped getting into trouble.”

“Like a dog misses his fleas.”

“Aww, you say the sweetest things, Coulson!”

From behind Barton and on the other side of the window, a woman with red hair orders, “Stop flirting with the officer and get your dumb ass out here, Clinton; we have places to be.”

“Yes ma’am!” Barton spins around to face her, but not before winking at Phil first. “You think Jess or Buck have any good stuff left?”

The woman—Natasha Romanov, Phil remembers—snorts, thwapping Barton up the back of his head. “You know they don’t because you _drank it all_ the last time we were there.”

“They could’ve gotten more since then!”

“We were there last night.”

“You say that like liquor stores aren’t open during the week.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and Phil feels justified in the fact that Barton often makes him feel the same. Romanov turns to Phil, who’s standing there with the bag of Barton’s personal effects, and tells him, “Thank you for your help, Officer Coulson. I’d say this won’t happen again, but I feel at this point, we’d both know it for the lie it is.”

He gives her a small smirk. “Yes, well next time, how about you don’t let him spoil a date for you.”

Romanov barks out a laugh, her expression of disbelief very similar to the one Barton had when Phil had implied they were dating earlier. “Don’t be absurd, Officer. If Clint’s on a date with anyone here, it’s definitely you, not me.”

Barton sputters, flailing towards his friend. “ _Tasha_!”

“What?” She shrugs and walks away, either leaving Barton behind with Phil, or figuring he’s a big boy and can follow her out without an escort. “You’re the one who told me the other day that you still had to try and make _him smile at you_.”

His face is red, and Phil almost does the same. Barton glances between Romanov and Phil, conflicted between two choices. Eventually he says, “See ya later, Coulson,” before grabbing the bag with his wallet and keys, and then running after Romanov, yelling, “I told you that in confidence and while intoxicated, how _dare_ you use that against me!”

If Romanov responds, Phil can’t hear it from inside the building. He shares a look with Maria, who mans the front desk. She just grins at him. “How long until he figures out there’s a twix and a post-it with your number in the bag?”

Phil thinks about it, considering everything he’s come to know about Clinton F. Barton since he first was arrested for disorderly behavior months ago. “I’d give him at least two days, but only because Romanov takes pity on him and shows it to him.”

“I say it takes a week. The usual wager?”

“Of course.”

Maria smirks widely. “Then you might as well give me $20 right now.”

He wags a finger at her. “Now, now, let’s at least give him a chance.”

\------

A week later, Barton comes into the police headquarters, for once, unaccompanied by an officer. He asks to see ‘Officer Coulson,’ and when Maria tells Phil that Barton’s there, she gleefully reports that he seems ‘kinda twitchy’—“Almost like he’s _nervous_ or something,” she says into the phone, “I’ll expect my money before the end of your shift.”

He hangs up on her laughter as Barton walks up to his desk, hands stuffed in his pockets, and _definitely_ looking more anxious than Phil has ever seen him before—which is astounding considering Phil has booked him at least four times himself.

Phil decides to take pity on him, and cuts him off before he can even say hello.

“Yes.”

Barton blinks, anxiety gone and replaced by confusion. “What?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

He grins and it’s kind of blinding, and Phil’s certainly keeping any (and all) gushing about his criminal crush to himself and never letting Maria hear a single word. Barton’s posture is instantly more relaxed, and it’s annoyingly cute to Phil how worried he’d been when Phil had been the one to offer _his_ number first.

“Awesome.”

Neither of them speak for a moment before Phil asks out of curiosity, “Did you find the note or did—?”

Barton shuffles his feet, smiling shyly at Phil. “Tasha definitely found it first, but I did notice the twix I didn’t get arrested with.”

“Figures you’d notice the candy first.”

“Hey, Coulson, don’t worry—you’re the only candy I’ll ever need.”

Phil groans a little, but he’s smiling regardless. He didn’t mean to, but now that he is, it’s completely worth it to see the look of triumph on Barton’s face.

“That’s a lame line, Barton. I hope your game is better when you pick me up on Friday.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

He almost groans again, which would counteract his growing smile. “Leave before I regret something.”

“Face it, Coulson—if you were gonna regret me, you’d have come to that conclusion _weeks_ ago.”

It’s true, but Phil’s not about to admit it. “Out, Barton. I’ll text you my address later. 7’o’clock sharp.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Barton leaves, saluting Phil and giving Maria a thumbs up before he walks out the doors.

\------

On Phil’s way out, he tosses a ten dollar bill at Maria.

“Uh, excuse me? You’re a little short, Phil.”

“It took him a week, but Romanov found it for him. I split the difference.”

Maria rolls her eyes but accepts it. “Whatever. Get out of here, Coulson. I’m sick of seeing your weirdly happy face.”

Phil chuckles, but continues walking. “See you tomorrow, Maria.”

He walks through the doors to her grumbled goodbye, texting his address to Barton’s number that he got from his file. Maria had muttered something about misappropriation of police resources when he’d done it, but then he reminded her it’d been _her_ idea.

Barton’s response arrives once Phil gets into his car. ‘ _See you then, babe._ ’

Phil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling all the way home.


End file.
